


when the night was full of terror

by skai_heda



Series: i'll find you in the darkest corners of my mind [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, One Shot, s7 speculation i guess?, very very brief mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 10:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20619899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skai_heda/pseuds/skai_heda
Summary: Green lights. Gunfire.Bellamy's breathing gets heavier. Clarke's hands start to shake.Green lights. Gunfire.~Bellamy gets hurt, and Clarke has to face the consequences.





	when the night was full of terror

**Author's Note:**

> this shit don't make any sense but oh well

Green lights. Gunfire.

Bellamy's breathing gets heavier. Clarke's hands start to shake.

Green lights. Gunfire.

_You need to breathe._

"Bellamy?" she says into the darkness. She's ashamed of how she's reaching for him, when he's the one with smoke in eyes.

But she's the one with the demons in her head.

"I'm still here," he whispers back.

The two lapse back into silence.

"How long do I have?" Bellamy asks her. Clarke shakes her head frantically even though he can't see her from where he is. "A long time, Bellamy. Hang in there."

He swallows audibly. "I wish I could've found her before I died."

"You're not dying."

He turns his hazy green eyes on Clarke, and she has to force herself to not recoil.

"You're lying," he murmurs. 

"I'd never lie to you," Clarke insists.

The silence between them is no longer comfortable; it's like the silence of a snake starting to uncoil, of smoke starting to billow from a fire.

"Go," he rasps, his voice low and almost unrecognizable.

"Why?" Clarke asks.

"It wants me to kill you."

She shakes her head again. "You'd be doing me a favor."

* * *

Clarke's not exactly sure how it happened, but she remembers when.

She could feel the sudden crescendo in the easy rustle of the leaves, the wind that swept through the group like knives piercing her skin.

She remembers how her index finger was touching Bellamy's as she handed him the water. Hears the soft sigh Echo sometimes makes when she gets uncomfortable with silence.

Hope's fingers had risen to touch the blonde braid lying on her shoulder, long freed of the tangles and beads and headbands. "It's here."

And then she had dissolved into the green.

In all fairness, Clarke had known Hope could travel between worlds, but it surprised her nonetheless.

Fatal mistake.

Maybe she heard Echo screaming. Maybe it was her.

Maybe she saw a plume of green plunge into Bellamy's chest like a knife, or maybe it had been a trick.

But then his eyes...

Clarke draws herself away from that memory, trying to gather her thoughts.

_Save Bellamy. Find Echo. Rescue Octavia._

It plays on a loop in her head for some time, but in her distressed state, the words start to blend and mix, like a broken record. 

"Would you shoot me?" Bellamy asks suddenly, and Clarke whirls around, forgetting to focus on the way his cloudy eyes cast a hazy green light in front of him. "If you had to. Would you?"

"Would you have done the same?" she counters, and she doesn't miss the way he suddenly glances away.

"You should tie me up," he suggests, and Clarke raises an eyebrow. "I don't want to hurt you. It does. And I don't know how long I have until I don't understand the difference."

"I'm not afraid of you," she tells him.

She lies.

* * *

Possession. Like a ghost or a demon. That's what Hope had called it.

_Don't worry, _she'd said, her confidence reminding Clarke of Diyoza. _It's... it's rare. I wouldn't worry about it happening to one of us._

But it had.

Clarke should've asked Hope how to fix it.

* * *

Ghosts exist.

Clarke's realistic. She doesn't believe in ghosts.

Right up until she does.

Bloodied and burned skin, bodies keeled over tables. No, maybe not even then. Not even when Lexa had told her ghost stories during her time in Polis.

Maybe, maybe when Raven had been tied to a headboard, blood spilling over lips as they stretch in a gruesome, feral smile. Maybe, after Praimfaya, after hours without sleep and food and water had made her see things.

When Monty had embraced her in the prison of her mind, she knew.

And she knew she had them all along.

But now, she believes in a different type of ghost. 

The ghosts that Lexa used to tell stories about.

The ones that craved blood.

* * *

Bellamy's fingers twitch and flex, and his green eyes never leave Clarke's.

It doesn't startle her when he suddenly jerks against the bindings she had put around his arms and legs after much pleading from him.

"He'll kill you," the Bellamy who is not Bellamy snarls, and she tries not to remember Raven. "He'll kill you."

She forces herself to kneel in front of him, but not within his reach. "He won't."

Bellamy chuckles, a dark, knives-against-chalkboard sort of sound. "Does it not break your heart, Clarke?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ever since your feet touched the ground, all you've known is pain," and Not Bellamy's voice is so sincere that Clarke almost believes that he's normal. "To lead, to lose. Oh, how much you lost. Your family. Your best friend. Your love. Your humanity. Your life."

He smiles then. "Bellamy's love for you."

"Shut up," Clarke chokes out. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know you wished you had died with your mother," he murmurs. "Because then you knew you had nothing left. Nothing. No one."

"No."

"You're alone."

"I'm not."

"You're in pain."

"I'm fine."

Not Bellamy scoffs. "A thousand versions of you live within me, Clarke. I know the pain you do. I feel it. Every single universe."

Clarke starts to shake. "Give him back."

"I have seen everything," he continues. "I saw you killing Finn. I saw you crying over Lexa's body. I saw that rocket rise, over and over. I saw you swallow twenty pills at once. I saw you cut your wrists open in a bathroom with yellow lights. I've seen you on a hospital bed a thousand times, and I've seen you die a thousand times."

"Stop," she says weakly.

"I have seen flashing lights and bent metal and cars on their sides," Bellamy continues, his voice soft and reverent as if he's telling an intriguing story. "In every life I have seen you, you suffer."

"You know nothing about me," Clarke spits.

He laughs. "I do. I know. I know your pain, and I know everyone else's. You are infinite, and now, so am I."

Something about that wording bothers Clarke.

_Now._

_Now._

_Now._

She takes a deep breath in an attempt to tame the creature that begins to pound against the inside of her ribcage.

"What do you want?" she asks.

Bellamy leans forward, and Clarke stumbles back.

"Don't you know who I am?" Bellamy asks her.

Her lips part slightly as the truth finally arrives.

* * *

_There was something dark in our world. A shadow. A person. It took over..._

_A ghost? _Clarke had asked.

_He's whispered his name his name in all of our ears, _Hope had said, her forehead wrinkling as she remembered the apparent fear it had caused.

_What was its name? _Clarke pushed.

Hope had shuddered. _The Thirteenth._

* * *

The thirteenth commander.

Sheidheda.

Clarke stumbles backwards again, desperate to get away from the man wearing Bellamy's face. "Why?"

"I want the girl," Sheidheda replies, baring his teeth. "The one with the red blood."

_"Octavia?" _Clarke asks. "But you... you already have her, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Sheidheda says irately. "But it is not just her I want."

Clarke refuses to ask him to elaborate, but turns out she doesn't need to.

"She was a dark one, wasn't she?" he continues. "She was what would've happened to you if you had more strength."

Clarke closes her eyes.

"She will give me what I want. She'll give me justice."

"Revenge," Clarke spits out.

"You are as _weak _and _foolish _as the other one!" Sheidheda bellows. "The one who _fell in love."_

"Don't you dare," Clarke murmurs. "Don't you fucking dare."

"Let me kill you," Sheidheda begs. "Let me give you what you want."

Clarke hates that he's right. She hates it all.

But if she surrenders to this entity, this poisoned consciousness, Bellamy will be doomed.

And Bellamy always mattered more.

"Let him be the one," Clarke says, thinking fast. "Let him kill me."

Sheidheda raises his eyebrows. "You want to be murdered by your love?"

"I'd rather die by his hand than the hand of anyone else," Clarke says softly. "Give him back."

He tilts his head, and suddenly the green light in his eyes shines a little less, dimming, retreating. Sheidheda, _Bellamy, _gasps as he regains control.

"Get away," he tells her. "Please, please, I have to kill you, you have to run."

"Did you hear what he told me?" Clarke can't help but ask. _Do you know how much it hurts to be alive?_

He nods balefully, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I'm so sorry, Clarke."

_You're not alone. You have him._

"Run," he whispers.

Clarke shakes her head. "Not without you."

When she leans forward and kisses him, she tastes blood on both their lips. She tastes familiarity, and she tastes violence.

_In every life I have seen you, you suffer._

_You're right, _Clarke thinks, as she kisses Bellamy harder. _I'll suffer. But the others won't._

She has a plan.

**Author's Note:**

> wow! awful!  
read Arkadian Rain even though it's not finished because school is taking all my time. Love you all, I'll love you more if you leave comments and kudos!


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